Why psycotic yamis should never meet
by Incuria
Summary: Marik and Bakura have their way with Ryou


Note: So, this is yet another oneshot to help with the damn plot bunnies. Broken should be up soon…not sure when. This is a Marik, Ryou, Bakura like you voted for. A bit of non-con smut. Enjoy!

Warnings: Non-con, yaoi, threesome, light bdsm, language….that's it I think… LEMON.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

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I came home from school one night to find both Bakura and Marik lounging in the kitchen of the tiny apartment that Bakura and I lived in. I walked through the door and two pairs of eyes turned to me with a look of starved lust. I looked back at them confused.

Bakura had never held anything but contempt for me. And as for Marik, he had barely looked at me twice…well. That was before I hit puberty. I had finished with it and been stuck with my feminine body and pretty looks. And apparently Marik had noticed.

I watched as he licked his lips.

"B-Bakura?" I asked quietly.

"Go to my bedroom," he snapped quickly. I hesitated. "_Now_, yadonushi." I scurried away at the tone of his voice, and went to his bedroom.

They followed soon after, and I opened the door and stepped in. There was not much in the room, just a bed fitted with somethings on the posts, and an armed chair in the corner. Wait, what was attached to the armrests and legs of the chair?

The next thing I knew they had thrown me down on the chair, and bound my hands to the wood with strips of black silk.

The world narrowed down to hands and fingers, grasping, pulling him limbs and hair. The clothes were ripped from his body and cold air was heated by inhumanly warm bodies. There were two of them, two boys bigger than he could ever fight off separately, let alone together. The two years since his yami had met Marik had not broke him yet, though that would come eventually, but for now he was still very much unaccustomed to the horrors of true rape. A strangled protest sounded in the back of his throat, it earned him a sharp slap across the face. Marik paused.

"Are we not letting him speak?" he asked of the albino boy. Bakura shot him a smile that flashed elongated canine teeth.

"Nah, he can talk. I just felt like hitting him." The first laughed and his fingers twitched, as if unaccustomed to being without his favorite knife. Bakura and Marik took a step back to look at him in little more than a shirt and his boxers. He had enough sense not to attempt to cover herself from their gaze, though his insides were knotting and twisting themselves in fear.

Bakura didn't look so dissimilar to himself. The same pallid skin, the same pearly hair, but Bakura's crimson eyes held a cruelty that the young light would never posses. His darkness was a full half foot taller, and had none of the feminine slimness that so attracted him to Ryou.

Marik, on the other hand, was a polar opposite. His bronzed skin complimented his sand colored hair and slightly depraved heliotrope eyes.

They moved as one, and rarely didn't know what the other was thinking. They moved with the kind of liquid grace that he was beginning to associate with demons. Most dark spirits next to humans seemed graceful and sensuous. However with demons the grace and sensuality was still there, but there was a violence under the sex. Like they were still trying to decide whether they were going to kill you or rape you. The two demons before him and decided on the latter.

Marik slid to his left while Bakura swept to the right. They stood on either side of him, hands around his neck.

"It is your first time," Bakura stated.

"So for now your rules will be simple," Marik finished.

"You are to obey our every command."

"You will ask permission to stand."

"You will not fight back."

"Do you understand?" They asked in unison. He glared defiantly, but remained silent, not trusting him voice to stay steady. He was scared shitless, but if they knew that then they won, and that was bad. Right? Bakura flashed his smile again, and it promised pain and screaming.

Marik wouldn't his fingers through his snowy hair and pulled his head back in a painful angle before pressing his mouth to his. Ryou stayed very still, barely daring to breathe, then Bakura slipped behind him and started fiddling with his shirt. Marik tried to force his tongue into his mouth and a whimper escaped him. Mark simply pressed harder against him mouth. He was starting to bruise the teenager. The light could either open his mouth or be bruised; he opened. The bronze yami's tongue thrust inside him and he realized that it wasn't so terrible. With his eyes closed he could even imagine that it was Atemu's hands on him, his kiss on his lips. The illusion was so complete that he pushed him won tongue past Marik's lips, then pain exploded across his skin. He cried out and tried to pull back, doe brown eyes snapping open. Marik's hand behind him head forced him to stay put, finally his teeth unclamped from the whitenette's tongue and Ryou pulled back as much as he could. He tried to pull his legs up to his chest but his bindings held fast. He tucked his chin into his chest to curl up as best he could. His chin was grabbed roughly and he was forced to look the Egyptian in they eye.

"You belong to us. Not the other way around," he stated simply. Tears sprang to they younger one's eyes and he fought them back. There was a small popping noise from behind him and his shirt fell from his thin shoulders. Bakura's hands covered him and he felt him eyes widen.

"No. Don't," he whispered, beseeching. Marik looked down at him and put his lips next to his ear.

"You'll get used to it in time pet," he whispered. Bakura's nails were biting into tender flesh. Ryou rocked his weight from one side, trying to stop him in the only that he could. Bakura's hand closed around his throat and yanked him back in the chair, fingers cutting off his air. A pitiful cry of fear escaped him.

"No! No! Plea- Fuck! Stop! No!" Bakura closed his other hand over his mouth, staunching his frantic gasps. In answer the pale yami's hand returned to their work.

"You're lucky it's your first night," he growled into his hair. Ryou's hand jerked against the silk around his wrist and it still didn't give. If there was a god in heaven he had abandoned him.

The men before him took their time exploring him with hands and mouth, his boxers swept away when Marik had finished kissing him. His breath came out in panicked pants or strangled half sobs. He did him best to staunch the sobs, refusing to give them little bit of satisfaction, but he couldn't stop the tears from flowing down his porcelain cheeks.

It was when he became conscious of fingers fiddling with the bindings on his wrists that his tears stopped. For one dizzying second he thought they were going to let him go. But as soon as his arm was free Bakura's strong hand closed around his slim wrist. He was pulled off the chair with such force his feet rose from the floor. The bed caught his fall, and he was relieved, until he was pushed into it. Marik pushed him into the middle and bound his legs with a leather cuff. The cuffs were clasped to a short silver chain that hooked onto the posts of the bed. Bakura repeated the motion on his wrists till he was bound face down and spread eagled on the bed. Ryou turned him head to the side but could only see straight in front of him and to the extremes of him peripheral vision. There was rustling from behind him, then a half concealed chuckle. Out of the corner of one eye he could see a handle with strips of leather attached to the end. Vaguely he remembered seeing something similar before and hearing it called a flogger. His breathing became faster, more panicked. He felt the ends of the leather skim down him spine, and he froze. The flogger raised into the air.

"Please," he whispered for the first time that night, right before the flogger connected with the tender white flesh of his back. He jerked with the blow; heat spread over his back. The blows came in a steady rhythm with very little time between them. After a few blows he was whimpering, a few more and he was gasping in time, a few more and he started to scream.

At first they were wordless noises that came after every splay of heat that attacked his skin, but they evolved till he was screaming words. Profanities, curses, and oaths. "Fuck!" SLAP. "-hate you!" SLAP. "Fucking fag!" There was a pause, the a hand grabbed his hair and pulled his head back with it. The angle forced the air to squeeze out of his throat in a rasp.

"_What _did you say?" came the growled demand. Ryou remained silent, trying to think past the pain him scalp.

"Just punish him. Don't ask stupid questions." One of them said. It must have been Marik. The hand left his hair and Bakura's talon-like nails dragged down his back, dragging across every wound, leaving trails of fire in their wake. A scream of pure pain erupted from his pale lips. Bakura laughed again, and started up with the flogger again. This time Ryou kept him screams wordless guttural sounds of pain. Somewhere in the middle of all of it he started to cry, this time he didn't even try to keep quiet. What was the point? They were trying to break him. He knew that much, and if a few sobs from here would stop the blows on him back then he'd give them freely.

"That's enough." SLAP. And the no more. Once more the cuffs were taken off and he was flipped onto him back. They didn't bother to tie him back up and he didn't try to run. They would catch him in seconds and he had nowhere to go. Besides, running would mean more punishment, and he would do everything in his power to avoid that.

Laying on top of the welts was torture, he tried to arch his back to relieve the weight against them, but the motion of bending the wounds forced him to fight back a scream. He was still trying to find a position that didn't hurt too much when his legs were thrown open and two cold fingers were thrust inside him. His breath hitched in his chest and he forced herself to look up at Marik. It was a bad idea. They caramel skinned man was watching him face and they contact was too intimate, too much. he looked past Marik to find Bakura, sitting on a chair, watching them, pants down and growing member in his hand.

Despite how wrong this was, despite the fact that it was rape, despite the welts on his back, his body started to react to Marik's ministrations.. His hips moved up to meet his hand, his breath quickened. That might have been why Marik was doing it. To make Ryou feel betrayed by hi own body, like he was enjoying his own rape. But he knew that his body didn't care who was touching him or under what circumstances, all his body cared about was that it was being touched and it felt good. Then again he might be getting foreplay for real. Either way when Marik took his hand away Ryou's hips followed.

Then the Egyptian was above him in a semi-push up position, Marik's hips angled towards his. He saw Bakura wink, then laugh. Ryou lost the contest and squeezed his eyes shut.

"Look at me. Watch my face pet," Marik commanded. Ryou ignored him, till Marik's teeth closed on the side of his neck. The light opened his eyes at the warning, and watched the bronze yami's face as he thrust into him for the fist time. Ryou screamed and Marik quickened the pace. It was too much, too big, too fast, too hard. He started to beg and whimper but Marik ignored him and kept at the same pace. After a while he lost the rhythm he had had and simply slammed into the little hikari as hard and fast as he could. Then he was coming inside of him, motionless above him, eyes shut, concentrating on the sensations. Then he was out of him, collapsing against his side.

"Come here," Bakura said. Ryou knew who he meant. The boy crawled out of the bed and stayed on hands and knees as he crawled across the floor to Bakura's chair. The yami gestured at his erect penis and rested his head back on the chair. The hikari slipped the point of his tongue across the head, and curled it around his yami's width. Bakura gasped, his back arching slightly as his fingers dug into the arms of the chair. Ryou licked the underside from root to tip in one long motion before covering him completely. As Ryou swirled his tongue, he bobbed him head and, lightly, grazed Bakura with teeth. The yami couldn't remain still; he bucked and writhed and moaned, then with a final cry he came into his yadonushi's mouth. At first Ryou gagged but eventually he found a rhythm and swallowing became easier. When Bakura was finished he stumbled over to the bed.

"Damn. You have to feel him mouth…it's fucking…damn," he told Marik. The Egyptian gestured to Ryou with his hand.

"Come pet. Come and sleep between us," he said making room. The teenager did as he was told, acutely aware of the fact that he hadn't orgasmed yet. Marik grabbed a packed of wet toweletts and cleaned his seed as it slid out of Ryou. Then Marik cleaned him chin, then himself and his pale counterpart.

Bakura pulled Ryou's slim, feminine waist against his, his softness pressing against him naked thigh, while Marik embedded his finger into Ryou's pearly hair. They fell asleep at the same time, leaving Ryou awake and held down by their sleeping limbs.

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One shot. With Marik -heart- hope you enjoyed!

Please review!


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